At The End of the Day
by runraggedycas
Summary: John advised her not to play Cluedo with him. He never said a word about Truth or Dare. (BBC Sherlock)


**Poor John Watson. I think I'd be traumatised, too. **

The pair sat side by side at the top of Sherlock's bed, leaning against the headboard with their knees brushing together at the close proximity between them. Both of them stared at the laptop placed in front of them, neither one fully focused on the film playing.

She could smell his Lynx body wash and she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

He could smell her Aussie shampoo, could feel her trembling slightly beside him, cold in her thin pyjama top but unwilling to admit it.

"That was awful," Sherlock said bluntly. "She clearly wasn't running. Her hands would've slid towards the right, if she had, not straight off the centre."

Aria rolled her eyes. "Sherlock, they're hardly likely to _actually _make the actors run and jump onto a _moving train_," she laughed, twisting her head slightly to face him. He had been silent for a while, since the awkward 'I want to know what you feel like' scene, and she was startled to hear him actually speak again.

The two of them were watching 'In Their Eyes' at Aria's request. Honestly, she hadn't expected him to agree to watching the film with her, or she had assumed that he would've at least left the room before they even got a quarter of the way into it.

"Don't they have stunt men?" he asked, turning to look her in the eye. "That's what they normally use, isn't it?"

His brow was furrowed slightly and he had his confused puppy look on, something that Aria didn't see often.

She laughed again. "Yes, Sherlock, but do you think that they would really pay for a stunt woman for a minutes worth of footage?"

"Well, it would make the film better, wouldn't it?"

"Sure but it's the end of it anyway. Why bother?"

Silence fell over the two and they turned back to the laptop, catching the last few seconds of the film, a small kissing scene, before the credits began to roll.

Aria crawled towards the laptop and closed the lid, pushing it towards the foot of the bed. Grinning, she turned back to Sherlock.

"So, what did you think?" In the four years that she had known him, this was the first time that she had managed to get him to sit through the entirety of a film.

Sherlock's icy blue eyes studied her for a second. He could tell that she wanted him to have enjoyed it, yet she wanted him to be honest.

"It wasn't awful," he admitted, "although they should have just paid for the stunt people."

Shaking her head slightly, Aria smiled. "I'll write them an angry email," she joked, feigning anger.

The self-proclaimed sociopath smiled softly. "Yes, you best had."

Rolling her eyes, the brunette tilted her head slightly to the left. "What should we do now? I mean, I would suggest a game of Cluedo but John advised me _against_ playing that with you," Aria giggled. In fact, John had taken the game to the house he and Mary shared, declaring that it was 'better this way.'

"It's a stupid game, anyway," Sherlock said, eyes narrowed. "It's wrong."

The younger woman was silent for a few seconds, thinking about what else they could do. It wasn't too late, it was only just coming up to ten. Sherlock had promised her that he would spend the night doing whatever she wanted but she wasn't sure what it was that she _wanted_ to do.

"You know that feeling when somebody asks you what your favourite book is and in that moment your mind goes completely blank and you can't remember any books that you've ever read?" she said.

It was a rhetorical question; Sherlock knew that but he couldn't help himself.

"No," he said as she finished with, "well, that's me right now."

Silence fell across them again.

"How about truth or dare?" Aria suggested suddenly.

"Isn't that what teenagers play?"

"Who says we can't play too?"

Sherlock thought about it. "Alright," he agreed, "but we only get to chose truth three times."

Aria smirked. "Well then, Mister Holmes, truth or dare?"

Half an hour later, the youngest Watson and the youngest Holmes had moved to the sofa, two empty bottles of Vodka and a half-full third sat on the table in front of them. They were still playing the game, only now both of them had used up all of their truths and both were slightly drunk. Surprisingly, neither of them were slurring their words just yet.

"So, dare or dare?" Aria asked, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. She didn't wait for him to reply. "You have to ring Mycroft and tell him how much you love him and how much you miss him." She grinned wickedly, reaching her hand out and offering him his phone.

Sherlock reluctantly took the phone from the woman's hand, unlocking it slowly. He glared at his friend while entering his brothers number and pressing the call button. It rang three times before Mycroft answered.

"_Sherlock_," Mycroft sighed, "_to what do I owe the pleasure_?"

Aria grinned, gesturing for Sherlock to get on with it.

"Can I not ring my favourite brother to tell him that I love him?" he said, feigning sadness. "You must visit soon. I miss you _terribly_." Aria shivered at the death glare sent her way as the youngest Holmes pulled the phone away from his ear, hitting the 'end call' button quickly before chucking the phone onto the table. "Satisfied?"

"Very much so."

"It's my turn now," he reminded her, "so I wouldn't be too smug if I were you." He was quiet for a moment before snapping his fingers, a devious smirk spreading across his face.

Aria looked at him warily, beginning to regret starting the game.

"Seeing as you brought my brother into this," he said, spitting out 'brother' with distaste, "you have to do the same. You're going to 'accidentally' call John."

"Is that it?"

"I'm not letting you off that lightly," Sherlock smirked. He gestured for Aria to get closer to him, which she did, before leaning in the rest of the way. He whispered something in her ear and her eyes widened as she pulled herself back, a look of disgust on her face.

"You are a cruel, cruel man, Sherlock Holmes," she complained, pulling her beaten up iPhone 4s out of her pocket. She pressed the home button twice, telling Siri to call John. As it rang she breathed deeply, preparing herself for what she was about to do.

"_Hello_?" John's voice spoke quietly from the speaker. "_Ariana_?"

The youngest Watson loudly moaned in pleasure, flipping Sherlock the finger as she did so. She slammed her fist against the back of the sofa, moaning again, pressing her arm against her mouth and mumbling the first name that came to her mind, muffling it slightly. "Join in," she hissed quietly to Sherlock, careful not to speak too loudly that the reciever on her phone would pick it up.

He rolled his eyes before doing what she said, trying to make it sound as convincing as possible.

_"Aria?"_ her brother said, his voice wary. He wished that he wasn't hearing what he thought he was.

The two continued to moan, groan and gasp until they heard the beep of the call disconnecting. Aria sighed in relief, smacking Sherlock in the shoulder before reaching for her phone, desperate to tell John that it was a dare.

"No," Sherlock said, snatching the phone from her hands. "Don't forget, you can't tell him until the morning."

Aria bit the inside of her cheek, glaring at her flatmate intensely. "I'm going to make you pay for that," she promised. "Just you wait."

"I'm absolutely_terrified_," he said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"You should be," she replied, shifting so that she was knelt on the leather cushions of his sofa. She mimicked Sherlock's devious smirk, curling her fingers around the collar of his shirt and dragging him closer to her. "You should be very, _very_ terrified, Mister Holmes."

Sherlock's mouth went dry and, not for the first time, he realised how truly /stunning/ Aria was.

For the shortest amount of time, the two just _stared _at each other, eyes locked and neither one able to look away. She was the one to break the stare, moving so that her lips caressed the base of his throat as her hand slid from his shirt to the back of his neck, holding him firmly in place. She leaned into his body, her chest pressed against his.

"Ariana Watson," he choked, "what are you do-?"

"Shut up," she mumbled against his skin, trailing kisses up his neck until she reached his jawline. "I'm making you pay."

She pulled her head backwards, observing his face. His beautiful blue eyes were wide open, studying her closely. Sherlock couldn't think straight with her pressed against him like she was. Aria grinned, tilting her head slightly to the right before she planted her lips on his. He reacted immediately, his lips moving against hers with ease.

One of his hands found its way to the small of her back while the other gripped at her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Aria tangled her other hand in his thick black curls, tugging roughly. Sherlock opened his mouth, letting out a low moan as he did so. Their kiss was hungry, possessive and neither of them were sure why they hadn't done it sooner. His tongue slipped into her mouth tentatively as he tasted her, earning himself small gasp.

Sherlock backed her into the corner of the sofa, shifting her slightly so that she was laid in between his legs.

Aria broke the kiss for a moment, mumbling a breathless, "Sherlock."

She had thought about this moment before, sure, but she had never expected it to actually happen. She was surprised by how soft his lips were, how skilled his tongue was, easily coaxing moans out of her.

As Sherlock crashed his lips onto Aria's again, the pair of them began to roll.

A shrill scream escaped the young Watson as the both of them crashed to the floor, one of them managing to catch their head on the corner of the table.

"Fuck!" Aria yelled, rolling away from the consulting detective, hands pressed to her forehead. She continued to yell profanities while pulling her hand away from her face quickly, gasping as she saw that her thin fingers were slick with blood. "Sherlock!"

The dark haired man panicked, waving his arms around frantically. "What do I do?" he asked, eyes wide.

"John! Call John!"

John Watson sat in his arm chair, arms crossed firmly over his chest as he stared silently at his baby sister sat opposite him, a large plaster across her forehead. He had received two calls from her in one night, each one something he never really wanted to hear.

Aria hung her head in shame. Once John had arrived, he wordlessly guided his sister to Sherlock's arm chair, tended to her wound (which, luckily, only required a butterfly stitch or two) and then proceeded to sit himself down in his old chair in front of her.

She didn't need the consulting detective's skills of deduction to know that he was confused, maybe even disappointed in her, although she wasn't sure why he would be the latter. Maybe he had noticed that her lips were slightly red and swollen, much like Sherlock's.

"Please say something," she finally whispered, breaking the tense silence.

Sherlock on the sofa the both of them had previously occupied, watching on curiosity.

"What do you want me to say?" John scoffed, moving his arms to the arms of the chair, leaning forwards in his seat slightly, jaw tight.

Aria glanced up at her brother, shrinking back into her seat as she accidentally met his eye. "I don't know," she said. "Just, please, cut it out with the silence." Receiving the silent treatment from John had always unsettled her, in childhood and adulthood, and he knew that.

John heaved a breath, burying his face in his hands. "You two realise that you've mentally scarred me tonight, right?"

Aria glanced up at Sherlock, a look of confusion on her face. "What does he mean?" she mouthed. The Holmes boy pointed towards the ex war-veteran as if to say, 'ask him yourself.' So she did.

"What do I mean?" John repeated, looking up from his hands. "What do I mean?" His voice began to increase in volume. "I mean, I get a call from my little sister and answer it to hear her and some bloke at it, only that bloke happens to be my best bloody friend!"

Aria looked between her brother and flatmate before erupting into laughter.

John glanced between the two, brow furrowed. "What are you laughing at? This isn't funny. _Nothing _about this is funny. How did you even manage to call me?" he asked, not really wanting to know the answer. In all honesty, he just wanted to forget the entire night ever happened.

"You think," she gasped, "that that was real?"

The crease between his eyebrows got deeper. "It sure sounded real," he said bitterly.

Aria took deep breaths, quickly calming herself down. "Sherlock and I," she began, gesturing between the two of them. John's face twisted in disgust for a moment. She burst into laugher again.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We were playing truth or dare," he explained. "Aria brought Mycroft into the game, so I thought it was only fair if I pulled you into it, too."

The eldest Watson visibly relaxed, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "You arsehole. You complete, utter arsehole."

"I agree," Aria chimed in, earning herself a dark glare from Sherlock. She raised her still-bloody hands in mock surrender.

"You too!" he exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the brunette. "You were part of it! Were you just going to let me believe it was real? Do you _want _me to have nightmares? No brother wants to hear that." He shuddered.

"If it makes you feel better," Aria offered, "Mycroft had to hear Sherlock tell him that he loves him." She didn't mention that, eventually, he would probably witness his brother snogging someone when he either checked the footage the cameras he had hidden in the flat had recorded or somebody showed it to him.

"Must've been terrifying."

**Sorry if Sherlock is a little OOC! I tried my best, I swear. Also, sorry if the ending is a little weak. I wasn't too sure how to finish it off. **


End file.
